The Aftermath
by Kelenloth
Summary: Lara pacified the storms and Reyes got them off of the island, but it's a long way home from Yamatai, and Lara is suffering the worst adrenaline crash of her life, not to mention more injuries than she cares to count. This is a short fic detailing Lara and Sam's passage home. T for Lara's wounds I guess. Mostly fluff and injury treatment.
1. Chapter 1

"Lara! Sit. Down." It was a command, said with such force that the young woman almost immediately obeyed. The fact that her knees, visibly wobbling, were supporting her on momentum and force of will alone did not help.

"I can-" She placed her hands on the side of their repaired craft, but found she did not even have the strength to push.

"I've got this, little bird." Lara did her best to avoid collapsing straight onto the sand. She hauled herself into the small boat as Jonah shoved them finally off the cursed shore.

Obeying Reyes' command at last, Lara found herself collapsing onto the back of the small boat, near where she had laid Sam. The young American was soundly and deeply asleep. Lara reached out by instinct to check that she was, in fact, still breathing. She looked far too peaceful to be a living survivor of what Lara just witnessed. Nevertheless, Lara found the evidence she sought and, satisfied, pulled herself back into a more comfortable position, and closer to her roommate. She did not trust herself to lie down yet - she wanted to witness this next part, just in case - so she propped her battered feet up as best she could, and came to sit next to Sam's head. She could not stand to be farther from her friend than she had to be. She did not think she would be able to let herself lose sight of Sam for some time.

As the loud relic of an engine cranked to life and the wind picked up around them Lara finally realized that it was true. They were leaving. As Reyes navigated them around the last hulking shipwreck surrounding the bay - with no sign of the terrible and mystic storms that had caused such ruin - it was only open sea before them. They had escaped. And though the evening light was beautiful, Lara did not look back to see the island they left behind.

In the blessed silence that followed each of the survivors marveled at their freedom and made their own first attempt to cobble together the broken pieces of the last few days. It was almost impossible to believe that it had only been a few days, but apparently it had.

Lara could not believe it. But she did. It was real. Himiko. The Sun Queen. Immortal souls. Unexplainable storms. The Storm Guard. It was all real. The legends, the myths, the stories her father told her to put her to sleep - or keep her up - at night. They were all real. She could not believe how wrong she had been.

She could feel it, like a physical sensation, an absolute surety. That this was just the tip of the iceberg. That there was more. Her father had always taught her that all legends were based on grains of truth, but he had disagreed with her and with the rest of the world on just how big those grains might be. This wasn't a grain, though, this was the whole stalk, field, and plow. And Lara knew at once that this was what her father knew, had known all along, and this is what he had died for.

Richard Croft was not just a name in archeology, he was the name. The name of fame and infamy, a name she had been trying to both live up to and avoid her entire life. But there was no avoiding this anymore. She wished she could tell him. She wished she could bury herself in his arms. She wished she could ask his forgiveness for all of her doubt, and that together they could see just how far the rabbit hole would go.

Lara could not have her father back. She could not even have Roth. But the rabbit hole was still waiting, and Lara knew that whatever came next, she could never leave it again. Her mind raced, listing the other myths, the other stories and legends that everyone knew must have been false. The Fountain of Youth, the Holy Grail, the gods of old, the Amazons, Atlantis, the Nephylim, who knows, even great bloody Dragons might be real. After what Lara had just witnessed, the actual resurrection of the dead, or at least the banishment of death from a body centuries past its last breath, she was ready believe it all. Her critical mind had not failed her, of course. The Truth needed testing, needed witnessing, needed to be found. But she would find it. There was no more hiding from it, and no more hiding it from her.

A gentle squeeze on her wrist brought Lara back to the present. Her gaze at last breaking from the golden sunset, she looked down to see Sam, her eyes just cracking open, taking Lara's hand from where it rested and wrapping it around her own. Lara returned the comforting hold, and looked over her friend. They did not need any words.

Sam was, to put it simply, the most gorgeous thing Lara had ever seen. Despite having been kidnapped and nearly burnt at the stake, and having an ancient magical spirit assert itself into her own body and mind, Sam was miraculously unscathed, physically at least. Lara was sure she had bruises underneath the simple white dress that adorned her slim shoulders, from the shipwreck if from nothing else. Her skin was far from clean, and Lara almost laughed to think what Sam's reaction would be if she could see her own hair. But breaking through all of that was the photographer's ghost of a smile. The girl was not even strong enough the stand and walk down to the boat, but she was strong enough to, with one tiny smile, carry Lara the whole way. Lara would not have gotten off of the island without Sam, she knew that. Himiko aside, if it had all been the same but not Samantha Nishirumi, there was a real chance that Lara would have given up, or even if she defeated the sun queen, would have allowed herself to simply collapse on the mountain, her deed done, her dying prayer that at least the others would make it home alive. But with Sam Lara had a goal, and a reason to come home.

The sun has set fully now, but the reality had somehow not fully sunk in. The reality that they were four stranded survivors, with only the gear on their backs, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, without any navigational gear or even signaling lights, had definitely not sunk in. But even as it verged on her mind, Lara's body made the definite decision that these were all problems for her fellow passengers to worry about.

She did not realize that she had closed her eyes until she jerked awake and found it to be much later than it should have been.

"Go to sleep, Lara. I've got the helm." She heard Reyes say. Beside her, Sam gave the same message, pulling gently on her hand. At long last, Lara laid down. As she did, each and every fiber of her being suddenly and insistently reminded her of every single fight, fall, and fire she had been through in the last few days. Lara struggled to hold in the small gasps these reminders drew from her as she eased herself down next to Sam. She placed a hand on the worst injury she had sustained, her impaled side. It was warm. Infected. This set off red flags and alarms in Lara's mind, but the dark fog of sleep was stronger, and it was only a vague worry that held her as consciousness finally left her. Perhaps she would die from the wound. Perhaps that was alright.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes! YES!" The sound, accompanied by a loud, triumphant laugh, was what finally stirred her. As her body realized that it was in fact still alive, all of the instinct which she had built up in the last few days came rushing back.

" _Ahh_!" Lara shot straight up, hand immediately snatching up the climbing axe at her belt, her eyes flying open.

The attack only lasted a moment though, as unbearably bright light assaulted her eyes, accompanied by a sudden wave of nausea and a flop sweat that had nothing to do with the sun. Her vision faded, and Lara felt a hand on her shoulder and her head, the only thing stopping her from falling right back down where she had slept. She fought for a moment, but then felt the axe removed from her grip and awkwardly hooked back into place. An arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Ssshh" was all she heard.

As she sat paralyzed for a moment in these supportive arms Lara's brain analyzed the split-second image she had gained when she opened her eyes. Jonah was in front of her, his back to her, his red shirt removed. He was waving it over his head and cheering. Lara heard Reyes laugh. What else had there been? It was big, and white. A ship. A ship! Lara tried to open her eyes again.

"Shh, take it easy Lara" Sam's voice was near her ear. She could feel the girls' hand on her back, stroking gently as Lara tried to take deep, deliberate breaths. She opened her eyes and saw white again, this time it was Sam's dress. "God, Lara, you had me so scared."

In the back of her mind, Lara knew what was wrong. She had a fever, a bad one caused by the infection, she was dehydrated, she was exhausted, and she hadn't eaten in - she did not know how long she had been asleep. She did not want to know.

When Lara was finally able to move her head without feeling like she was about to throw up all over her roommate, she found the ship significantly closer than before. Reyes was maneuvering them into position and, looking up, Lara could already see crewmen preparing a ladder to let them up.

For one terrifying moment, Lara's heart clenched at the sight. Strangers. Strange men in seamen's clothes. Panic coursed through her like an electric shock, and she found that Sam's hand was held in a death grip by her own.

Obviously feeling her distress, Sam moved her hand to Lara's knee, reminding the very ill adventurer that she was there and drawing her gaze back down from the men who were now almost straight above them.

Lara somehow did not even hear the celebration of Jonah and Reyes as the ladder finally reached them. She knew in the back of her mind that it was likely by the tireless, sleepless efforts of her friends that she was not about to die stranded at sea. She did not know how they had managed to signal a ship, be it through innovation or sheer luck, but she was grateful. The only problem now of course was getting on it. She risked another glance up the ladder. It was very, very high.

"Can you stand?" Lara asked. Sam did not laugh at the irony.

"Yes." The American said. The returned question was unvoiced but hung between them all the same. Lara's grip tightened once again and she tried to shift her feet onto the floor.

"Lara-" Sam bit her lip in sympathetic pain, but Lara pushed through her stiff, weary muscles until she could move her balance and stand. Sam held her upright for a moment as she swayed, the nausea returning. A wave of warmth rolled over her body and she was once again instantly covered in sweat. "Lara?" Her hearing was nearly gone. The world was a muffled blur, but Lara was determined. Still holding Sam's hand, she turned to face the ladder.

Jonah was already halfway up the ladder, and Reyes was at the base. The woman was looking at her, asking her a question. Lara did not know what it was, but she nodded. Reyes turned and pulled herself up.

"I'll go after you." Sam's voice finally broke through the fog. Lara nodded again, and released Sam's hand to grip the ladder before her. She felt like throwing up again. Her friend's hand came to rest reassuringly on her shoulder as she negotiated the first step. The first step was always the hardest.

Lara all but threw her foot onto the ladder's lowest rung. Her feet felt like they were made of solid lead. She moved her hands to the next hold. One more, she told herself. And then she made a mistake. Lara looked up. The impossibility of her task threatened to overwhelm her.

She took a deep breath. Her ribs ached. Every inch of her ached. She looked up again. She could do this. She had already done far, far worse. Lara thought back to the countless cliffs and buildings and mountains she had scaled on Yamatai alone, much less in her many climbs before. She could make it up a simple ladder. Lara forced herself up the first step, hauling her foot up to the next rung. She was better than this. She was Lara Croft. And although she had nothing left to give after her final adrenaline crash, Lara attacked the ladder.

Jonah had already reached the top, and Reyes was not far behind. "Come on, Lara!" She heard a shout. And another. The sounds blurred in Lara's mind until she could almost believe they were Roth.

"You can do it, girl." He would have said. "I can't." She would have told him. And then she would prove herself wrong. "Come on Lara, you're so close." The gruff voice, the voice she trusted most in the world, felt close enough to touch. Perhaps it was the fever, or perhaps she was losing her mind. What mattered is that her feet were moving. One foot and then then other, higher and higher, over and over again her trembling limbs somehow pulled her leaden form up until she reached the very top. Lara felt strong hands grasp her own and pull her up the last few feet, laying her down on the deck, and for a moment she truly believed they were the hands of Roth.

"You made it, little bird." Jonah's voice came instead. Lara tried to nod, and looked to make sure Sam had followed.

As she saw her friend pull herself onto the deck, Lara realized again that they were surrounded by strangers. Kind strangers, she told herself, as they had let them on board. Lara still looked each up and down.

It wasn't until a minute later that Lara realized what she was doing. She was sizing then up. Estimating how easy each of these men would be to kill. She had identified all nearby weapon-like objects, doors, and possible assailants. She knew that one of them had a weak left knee, and that the one closest was close enough that she could definitely kill him before he could lay a hand on her or on Sam. She still had a few of her weapons on her: her axe and pistol. She had left the rifle, shotgun, and sadly, her bow in the boat below. They would be stranded at sea, but they had served their purpose. These lighter weapons had become a part of Lara, and she had even fallen asleep with them still tied to her belt.

Even in her state, Lara told herself, she could have the entire crowd down in a minute. Her conscious mind screamed to her unconscious that it would not come to that. That the scenarios she played out in her mind, one after another, were in vain. That not all men were the Solarii, and that the Solarii were gone.

When one of the men offered her a hand, Lara visibly flinched away from him are stared with fierce, frightened eyes, searching for any movement that might signal an attack. He was holding out a water bottle. Lara almost gasped in shock at her own actions when her mind cleared. Was this who she was now? She would think about it later, give herself some time. For now she took the water with a nod of thanks and took a quick drink. The quick drink turned into a very long drink, which turned into Lara downing close to the whole bottle in one go. Luckily the others had been given water of their own.

She saw a man she guessed to be the Captain approaching, and tried to say a thank you in stuttered Japanese. The man, with his thick brown beard, smiled and returned the greeting in perfect American English.

"Of course!" He said "Can't believe you're alive! When we heard your hail - the SS Endurance! That beats all. And on a skip like that-" he laughed. It was a hearty, somewhat raspy laugh that seemed to be the vocal equivalent of his beard. "How in the world is that thing still afloat?"

Reyes answered, and from their discussion Lara learned that the engineer had been able to fix up a radio using Lara's handheld and the remnants of the boat's old system and send out and SOS. Apparently there had been a search declared for the SS Endurance, based on Lara's earlier distress call, and all nearby vessels had been told to keep a look out. Most of the ships hadn't really bothered. They knew where they were. The edge of the Dragon's Triangle was not a place where lost ships were ever seen again. But by some miracle, this ship, which was headed to Tokyo, had, and had monitored for emergency signals through the night.

"We'll need to contact he authorities, of course, call off the search. But let's get you inside."

Lara was still sitting on the deck floor, breathing heavily as her head continued to clear. She did her best to hide all cringes of weakness as Sam offered her a hand up, and she took it. She did not want these men to see how out of commission she truly was.

Despite her efforts, and Captain looked concerned and immediately asked for the first aid supplies. The ship's crew did not include a fully fledged medic but, he said, one of the men, Henry, was-

Lara cut him off before he could offer more. And to his credit, the seaman understood. He handed her the first aid kit, and pressed her no more. After dismissing a few of the crew, who had all gathered around to see their new guests, he led them into what seemed to be the crew's living area, near the mess. Lara could hear Jonah's appreciative groan when they walked in and smelled food. And though it stirred her long ignored hunger too, in her state Lara was hesitant to sit down and eat. She worried she would not be able to stand again. She didn't know that she could stomach food. The Captain had luckily picked up on or predicted this, and offered an opportunity to wash off first. He could not help eyeing Lara wearily. She wondered if she was actively dripping blood all over his ship.

He was a man of old chivalry, it seemed, and offered Lara his own private captain's cabin, which had a private shower, instead of sending her to the main shared head. Lara tried to express gratitude for this considerate and sacrificial gesture, but Sam had to communicate most of it for her. The American girl was still holding on to Lara's arm, and it seemed to be understood that Sam would accompany Lara, and not stay with Reyes and Jonah in the mess. Neither Sam not Lara were quite ready to be on their own just yet.

The cabin was small, but not oppressively so. There was a bed in one corner and a desk in the other. There was even a reading chair and a small television. Lara tried her best to not get blood on any of the Captain's humble furnishings. She placed the first aid kit on the desk and groggily began to sort its contents.

The silence that followed as the captain left them in privacy was somehow disconcerting. After all of what happened, and the rush of being led through the new ship, and all of the strangers around them, silence somehow did not feel like the correct response. Lara found herself catching her breath. Sam seemed just as shaken, and hesitated to break the silence.

Lara found that her hands were shaking. Badly. She fumbled with a roll of bandage, and did not even want to try to open the bottle of antiseptic. Sam's hands found her own. They were warm, and steady.

"Lara." She stopped until Lara's eyes had met her own. "We made it." She said, a tinge of smile appearing on her lips despite the deep concern in her tone. "We've got some time, you don't have to rush. Why don't you just... Just get a shower, and I'll try to sort this stuff out. Okay?"

Lara wanted to insist that she was fine. That she knew what she was doing, what she needed, that Sam didn't know a thing about first aid. Instead she found herself mutely nodding, and looking towards the door to the private toilet and shower in the final corner of the room. Sam released her hand as she shambled, zombie-like, towards it.

* * *

A/N: Apologies that I know so little of how ships work, or injuries for that matter.


	3. Chapter 3

Lara's first instinct was to turn the water on and dive straight in, clothes, boots, and all. But she remembered Sam's words. They had made it. There was no need to rush. They were safe here. Secure. The Captain had even said something about supplying a change of clothes. She took a breath, as deep as she could manage, and shut herself in the small bathroom, leaning with both hands on the sink. She looked down at herself and was hit with something akin to vertigo again at the challenge of undressing. By this point her cargo trousers, heavy boots, and tank tops seemed fused with her skin. She did not want to see what mottled mess lay beneath. But she would have to clean her wounds.

Standing straight again, Lara caught sight of her own face in the small mirror as she fingered the hem of her shirt. The archeologist did not gasp as she met her own tired eyes in the mirror. After the strange homeliness of the ship, her own terrible appearance seemed more real than anything else in the last twenty-four hours. Every inch of her skin seemed soaked in blood, most of it not her own, and almost her entire body was caked in dark mud. Her hair, sticky and unkempt, soaked in sweat and sea spray, clung to her cheeks and brow. She took another deep breath and watched her own chin tremble uncontrollably. Looking down again she wondered if she had the strength to lift her own shirt above her head.

The answer was no. But she did it anyway. Halfway through peeling the worn fabric off of her abdomen the burning wound in her side shot her a reminder of its presence. Lara nearly cried out as, blinded by the shirt still tangled around her face, she buckled and had to catch herself on the counter with her elbows. Not bothering to stand back up, she clawed the nearly shredded tank tops the rest of the way off over her head and dropped the sopping mess into the sink. She did not want to look down at the wound on her side, but her eyes were drawn to it anyway.

The very first night on the island, Lara had known that her wound would be infected. If the spike itself had not done it, then wading through all of that filthy waste water would. She tried to clean it and close it the night she had found Roth, and after her parachute ride ended in its reopening, Lara had been forced to burn it shut. She had never smelled the scent of human flesh burning before that evening, but it was not one that she could forget. But an arrowhead was not a precise surgical instrument, and she was not surprised that the edges of the wound were a sickly, puss filled green again, and far too warm to the touch. The skin under her shirt was still slathered in mud, though, and Sam was right, washing off before bandaging the area would do her good.

Lara tried to figure out how to get her boots off while she idly unhooked her bra and threw it in the sink with her shirt. If she sat down, Lara felt sure, she would not be able to stand again. She needed one of those showers with a seat in it. She needed a long, warm bath, maybe at those hot springs she and Sam had visited last year. There was no seat here but the toilet however. Lara wondered if she could sit, and then just drag herself or crawl into the shower afterwards. Before she did, she would need to take off her belt.

It was a complicated process, as she actually had on more than one belt, with supplies and weapons strapped on however she could. She took them off, piece by piece. Her climbing axe, her pistol, the now nearly diminished bundle of rope. She still had a few handfuls of ammunition of various sizes. Her radio must have been left back in the boat. The whole holster came off next – which unfortunately forced her to lean down and undo the second strap around her leg. Finally, Lara attempted to free at least her upper body from pants and trousers as best she could before finally crashing down onto the seat behind her, and staring harshly at her boots.

If she was honest, these boots had served her remarkably well. They had held up to stone, mud, water, and blood, and had not tripped her or come off in any mad, bullet dodging flight. As she tugged off the makeshift binding she had wrapped around her calves, Lara thanked whatever gods might be for the invention of secure zippered boots, as she knew that having to undo the laces may have proven too much of a task. Even undoing the ends, which she had wrapped around the top to keep them tight, was a nightmare with her shaking fingers, and bending down long enough to free her swollen feet made blood rush to Lara's head and put pressure on her side. She took a deep breath as she leaned back in her seat at last and finished kicking her boots off, peeling off her disgusting socks, which might have been white when all this started, but it was impossible to tell, with the use of her toes, and kicking free of her trousers.

Her task done, Lara allowed herself to just sit for a moment, staring blindly ahead. Never in her life had the simple task of undressing taken so much out of her. She would not have believed it possible, a week ago. She looked up at the shower. Even in the small private bathroom, it looked so far away. It was perhaps only two baby steps to her left, but they were two steps she was unsure that she could make.

"Lara? You alright in there?" Lara jumped as Sam's voice broke through her isolation. "I-"

"Y-yes!" She replied too quickly, and at once made an effort to stand. A wave of lightheadedness hit her again, and she gripped the sink to avoid falling backwards. "I….I'm fine." She stumbled over to the shower and turned on the water as if to prove her point. But as the water, a harsh, high pressured stream, stinging cold, hit her bare shoulders, Lara proved the opposite.

The archeologist could not help sucking in a hissed breath through her teeth as the water stung her, piercing her injured side like ice claws and reminding her of the bullet graze in her arm. She hurriedly shut the water off again. Damn. Lights danced in her vision for a moment.

"Lara?" Sam was clearly just outside the door this time, her hand no doubt on the handle. Lara was still steadying herself when she tried to reply.

"I'm alright Sam… that water's just…." She eased the shower back on, but it seemed to only have two settings: 'off' and 'firehose'. "Cold." She managed to say. But the cold was not the problem. The water felt like a rain of tiny bullets. The spray may have been perfect for scraping the grime of her skin at any other time, but wounded, it seemed to be scraping off her skin, grabbing each of its frayed edges and tunneling down. She took a deep, shuddering breath, no longer able to consider what Sam must be thinking, as she tried to let the pain wash over her. One hand went again to her side, in an attempt to protect it from the new onslaught, while the other grabbed a hold of the shower nob in a vain attempt to keep herself upright.

She could do this. She breathed. It was just. Bloody. Showering. She would not be defeated by an everyday task. But as the rain continued to burrow into her skin, Lara felt her grip slipping, and her knees giving out. With a crash, Lara Croft slumped into the red puddle at her feet and curled instinctively into a ball to try and avoid the pain. Unbidden, a choked sob escaped her as she fell, and provided the last straw for her roommate on the other side of the door.


	4. Chapter 4

This is the last I have written for now, and it might be a while before I can write more :/ sorry y'all I have a LOT of academic writing to do before Christmas.

* * *

"Lara!" The archeologist heard her over the tempest raining down on her as darkness encroached on her consciousness. The water was shut off, and Lara felt herself being righted, made to sit up and lean against the cold shower wall. She tried to continue taking deep breaths and open her eyes. She felt warm hands on her face.

Sam was on her knees, her white dress now half wet, with deep concern written in her eyes. Lara could see behind her a pile of towels and clean clothes dropped by the door.

"Lara what happened? Did you faint?" Sam was pushing Lara's hair out of her eyes, trying to make sure the English woman was conscious enough to look at her.

"I don't-" Lara again had to make an effort to take a deep breath. Sam's hand was on her forehead. She knew why, and she knew what her roommate would find there, but it was a comforting support nonetheless.

"Lara you're burning up." Sam reported, and Lara did her best to nod. She could feel it now, behind her eyes, the glowing embers of fever, drying her up from the inside out, hollowing her from the core. She was thirsty, she wanted the water back, but she didn't want it to hurt again.

Sam gently moved her legs, which Lara had held curled up to her chest. She sucked in a sharp breath as she got her first glimpse of the infected wound in Lara's side. As she saw it the realization dropped like the start of a landslide, and Sam looked Lara up and down, noting every one of her scrapes, bruises, gouges, cuts, and burns. She knew there were even more under all of the mud.

Lara gave a little sigh as she watched Sam's face, and saw the horror dawning on it as her eyes darted up and down over the archeologist's body. Lara did not really register the fact that she was, in fact, naked. The mud and blood seemed themselves like clothes now. But now that it was too late, Lara realized that she did not want even Sam to know just how hurt she was.

"I'm-"

"Don't you _dare_ say you're alright."

Lara stopped. She would not admit even to herself that that was what she had been about to say. The phrase had become a reaction now, practically meaningless, but with just enough meaning that maybe if she said it enough times it might come true.

"God, Lara, what… what…" Sam was almost crying now. Lara knew her well enough to recognize the tone. But the American took a steadying breath and would not let herself cry. She sniffed, and set her shoulders. "Let's get you cleaned up." She said, softly. It was not a request or a suggestion. Lara tried to push herself into a more comfortable position, and watched as Sam stood and carefully picked her way back to the door, shoving the remnants of Lara's muddy boots and trousers aside with her foot. She returned with a pair of washcloths and removed the string which still tied small white flowers to her hair.

"My mom did this for me when I was a little girl once." Sam explained. She reached up and wrapped one of the clothes around the small showerhead, and tied it into place. It took her some time, and Lara simply looked up from her awkward position huddled naked in the corner. "We were in some hotel that didn't have a bathtub. I was so young, I hadn't ever used a 'grown up' shower before, and the noise… anyway…" Sam tested her invention by easing the water back on. Lara could not help but flinch, despite the fact that Sam had placed herself between Lara and the potential spray. Instead the water was caught and tumbled down as a reunited stream, still plopping noisily against the floor, but not in the skin flaying spray like before. "There we go." Sam said. She was keeping her voice steady, as if this was an everyday thing. She seemed to be the embodiment of her earlier admonition: There was no need to rush. They were safe now.

Once again, Sam was the strong one, getting them through the night.

Lara knew now that she could handle anything that she could fight. And if she couldn't fight it – like a ghost or a storm – she would find a way to fight it nonetheless. But the aftermath. You couldn't fight the aftermath. You could only fight yourself for so long.

Sam knelt down again, and Lara's brow creased as she sat, cross-legged, on the shower floor, letting her dress be completely soaked through in the waterfall she had created. She scooted over to sit next to the naked, wounded woman in the corner as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Do you think you can move over to the middle?" she asked. "It'll be easier."

Lara nodded, and found the strength to move her body away from the corner and towards the water, still leaning on the wall, and using mostly her arms, her legs still folded close of out instinct. Sam moved out of her way, and bunched the second washcloth in her hand, allowing it to fill with water.

Her eyes asked for permission, which Lara granted with a nod, and Sam began to gently wipe the mud and blood off of her friend's shoulders, starting around the jade pendant and its leather strap which still adorned Lara's neck. "You know, Lara Croft, I always wondered if you ever took this off, even to shower." Sam said, with a bit of a grin. She spoke casually, comfortably, as if this is what all friends ended up doing eventually; having to wash the blood off of the other in the tiny cabin shower of a merchant ship. She spoke of something older than Yamatai, Lara's necklace, so that she would not have to speak of all the marks which were newer than the charm.

"I… I do, usually…" Lara tried to answer, tried to play along, to keep herself conscious if for nothing else. She had forgotten than she still had the pendant on. "I-shhii-!" Lara stifled a curse as Sam cleaned as carefully as she could around the bullet graze on her shoulder.

"Sorry!" Sam bit her lip. Something about the spell of normalcy was broken, as they were both forced to admit to Lara's terrible wounds. Sam held her breathe for a second but Lara did not let the tension hang in the air.

"You… you rarely wear jewelry, Sam." Lara tried to keep some level of banter up, and her forced steady tone was sign enough that Sam could begin again to clean Lara's arm. "I've sometimes wondered why. Not that you should I just…"

"I lose it." Sam laughed, a real laugh this time. "I once had this ring my grandma gave me for my sweet sixteen. I don't know how old it was but, you know, old. I wasn't used to wearing it so I'd take it off, fiddle with it. Then one day I just couldn't find it. Probably left it somewhere on mistake. I've done the same with bracelets, especially the dangly kind. Necklaces I just end up like, putting in my mouth, you know, and I dunno they just get in the way, so…" Sam kept up her story telling as she continued cleaning off Lara's arms. She kept smiling to avoid crying at the sight of what would one day be Lara's many, many scars. She kept the conversation mostly one sided, as Lara still seemed a bit shallow of breath. The cold water seemed to be helping her fever for now, but she knew that it would probably get worse.

Lara, for her part, did her best to relax. She had never been tended to in this way before. She had certainly never been given a bath, not since she was a toddler at least. If anyone had asked, if even Sam had asked, she would have declined the offer. She could bathe for herself, thank you very much, and there was no way in hell she was about to let anyone else, even Sam, watch her while she did. Except that she couldn't, and she was. It could have been very, very awkward, but Sam did not allow it to be. Even as she washed Lara's breasts and between her bare legs, Sam remained casual, as if she had done this before, and Lara, to her own surprise, let her. When Sam wasn't washing close to a wound, it felt… nice. Very nice. Far nicer than Lara was prepared for. After a while the water had even warmed up. The steam did not feel the best, with her skin already warm with fever, but Sam's gentle administrations did.

"Sam," Lara stopped their conversation at last, When it looked like Sam was just about done removing the dirt from between Lara's toes. "Thank you."

Sam simply looked up and smiled. She did not say "Yeah you owe me" or even "what are friends for?". She did not insist "if you needed help you could have asked" or "I owe you for saving me" or anything like that. Same just smiled, and Lara smiled weakly back. "You're welcome." She said sincerely at length. "But we're not done yet, hold on a sec-" Sam stood up, a bit of an awkward move in the shower. Still dripping, she crossed the small room and the attached cabin, and brought the first aid kit back. Lara could not help watching her with some surprise. The archeologist could feel the strength returning to her own exhausted muscles, but even after her ordeal Sam seemed to have gained a second wind, with strength enough for both of them. Either that or she was faking it very well.

When Sam returned Lara did her best to walk her friend through what needed to be done to fully clean and bind her wounds. It may have been another hour, on and off between cleaning and binding, and they used up almost the whole bottle of antiseptic. Lara felt fully dosed in the clensing chemical mix as Sam moved from her arms to her head to her chest, sides, and eventually her legs. They kept talking, Sam was very insistent about that. When it came time to wrap Lara's worst wound, which nearly caused the archeologist to pass out, Sam was adamantly telling Lara about this ice cream place they would need to visit when they got back home, to avoid asking about the terrible cauterized puncture itself. Lara was glad of this. She did not think she could handle how the discussion would go otherwise. Sam would start crying, and Lara would try to brush it off. That would make Sam angry; angry with Lara and with herself and with the world at large. In the end, Sam would blame herself, which was ridiculous because this entire terrible venture was Lara's fault through and through, and there would be a lot of tears. Lara knew the conversation was coming, but she was very glad to not have it right now.

"Do you think you can stand to get dressed?" Sam asked at last, standing to her feet herself. Still dripping everywhere, Sam did her best to not drip on Lara. The archeologist nodded, and took Sam's offered hands.

It was a slow, shaky process getting Lara back on her feet. Sam helped guide her to sit down on the toilet again, and wrapped a towel around her friend. The towel got more wet from Sam's hands on it than Lara's, and the American sighed.

"Screw this," Sam reached behind her back and pulled on the waterlogged knot keeping the white fabric wrapped around her. "Lara do you mind if I-" Lara shook her head. Of course she didn't mind, Sam more than deserved a shower herself. It was good of her to ask, though. Them being roommates, and Sam being Sam, Lara had seen the American in the buff before, but with her deeply engrained British sensibilities, it was never exactly a comfortable thing, and Sam knew. Today was also not the first time Sam had seen Lara's body, although the other times were when they were newly roommates, and Sam had not yet fully internalized the need to knock on Lara's door before letting herself in. They had learned to live together, and Sam respected Lara's preference for privacy, up and until the woman was laying only half conscious in a pool of blood on the shower floor.

"I'll just… sit here… if that's okay." Lara's words came slowly as she held the towel around her. She looked at the pile of clothes Sam had brought from the Captain, and wondered if she would be able to dress herself without help at this point. She probably could, she reasoned. So while Sam took a quick shower behind her Lara busied herself with pulling a large shirt over her head and trying not to fall over while stepping into a pair of loose sweats. The later article involved standing up, which Lara managed, a bit to her own surprise. By the time Lara was dressed enough to step out into the cabin her roommate was clean, dry, and dressed herself.

"Now." Sam said, as she finished toweling her hair. "FOOD!"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Can you believe it's been a year and a half? I wanted to thank everyone who has left comments on this story, both recently and when it was first posted, asking for more. I really don't think I would have come back to finish this without you. As it is, I am considering this 5th chapter as the final one for now, but am happy I get to write some sort of conclusion to this little plot-less piece. I don't write much fiction any more, and I have loved getting back into Lara's story and head. So enjoy these little scenes to try and put a bow on the work I abandon over a year ago. I hope the tone still fits. Thank you again for your comments and reviews.

* * *

Food. She needed to eat. In her mind, Lara knew this. She tried to think back to the last time she had eaten, and could not remember for sure. So why was she sitting on this bench, simply staring at her soup? And in any case, how long had she been sitting here?

Lara sat, unmoving, slumped on a bench in the galley. In front of her lay a lovely bowl of warm beef soup. It smelled amazing, and they had saved it for her. Beside her, Sam had almost finished her bowl. Across the table Jonah was talking to them, and to the few crew member who were free to sit and listen. Lara could not hear what the were saying. Or rather she could not comprehend it. The mumble of words floated high above her area of focus, which was somehow both completely captured by the uneaten soup before her, and also a thousand miles away. She still had not lifted a hand to the spoon since the bowl was set before her. She had barely managed a nod of thanks, and had been sitting like a carved statue ever since.

She had lost the will, or perhaps the ability, to move. Ever since the left the island really, but Sam had lead and dragged her this far. She had been moving, constantly moving, for what felt like a lifetime. No time to stop. Had to keep moving. Stop and you die. Or worse. Stop and Sam dies. Keep the momentum. Just. Keep. Moving. She had thrown herself up cliffs and down waterfalls, had sprinted and raced and climbed and swam and leapt and slid and crawled and dragged and limped, but had never stopped moving. She had punched and fought and grappled and shot but never once stopped. Never stop. Never sleep. It was amazing what her body could do on adrenaline alone.

And now she sat. Still. Stopped. Lara did not have enough adrenaline left to be afraid. She did not have it in her to fear the strangers in the crew, or worry how long until they got wherever it was they were going. She didn't have the strength to fear another storm. She just. Had. To rest now.

Lara's eyes snapped back open, though she had not realized that they were closed, when Sam nudged her shoulder. The American looked pointedly, worriedly, at her, and then her soup. Lara knew that the girl would spoon feed her if she had to. Her trance broken, Lara attempted to save what pride she had left. She lifted a weary hand, like a lead weight, up onto the table, and did her best to leverage her heavy, shaking fingers onto the spoon. She could feel Sam watching her as she leaned over and shoveled a spoonful into her mouth.

Dear God this was good. Lara closed her eyes as her mouth and body finally realized that food was exactly what they needed. Good, strong broth with meat and vegetables. Tender and hearty and flavorful. It still took a long time, with slow motions, but Lara devoured the food set before her, and when she was done felt ready to hibernate.

She felt Sam's hand on her shoulder again as she pushed he empty soup bowl away to make room, and then slumped forward to lay her head on the table, not even bothering to cushion her head on her arm. She could see Jonah now, telling a story with wide gestures, and a few crewmen eating it up.

"I've never seen so many shipwrecks!" He was saying "Old and new all piled together. We found that old WWII boat next to a big wooden ship, you know, with masts and sails and…" Lara tuned the rest out and closed her eyes. It was a surprisingly comfortable table. But perhaps any flat-ish surface that would bear her weight would be comfortable. Sam scooted closer on the bench, and as Lara dozed she could feel her hand trace gentle patterns on her back, careful to avoid the bandaged wounds.

She thought she had lost this. On the island. She never admitted it to herself but she felt as if she would never be here again. Safe. With friends. Headed home. Lara took the biggest breath her bruised ribs would allow, in and out, and let herself fall asleep.

* * *

There was a fire. She was running. Jumping. Falling. Climbing. She had to get out. Shots rang above her, around her, through her. Get out. Up. Up. Higher. Away from the flames. Her feet slipped, the wood crumbled, she fell again. Had to keep climbing. Keep running. "Lara!" There was Roth. She had to get to Roth. Scorched hands met as she leapt to him, hanging by his grip alone. But the fire was still coming. Climbing into the sky. Lightning struck, and they were falling, tumbling out of the sky, she dragged Roth down into the fire, into blood and death, into hell. "Lara!" she heard again. It was all burning. She was burning. The hot smoke baked her face and charred her lungs. She couldn't get out. Couldn't save him. Couldn't save herself. She had to keep moving. Get out. She had to get out. "Lara!" Sam was calling now. Where was she? Where was Sam? "Lara!" She was dying. Screaming. Her soul ripped from her body, in front of Lara's eyes. Lara ran. Ran towards her. But she was only getting farther away. "Lara!"

"Lara!" Lara awoke with a jolt, shooting up and gasping for breath. The light was gone. The flames, gone. But the fire still burned behind her darkened eyes. Sweat soaked sheets clung to her and she struggled to free herself in the pitch dark. Someone grabbed her arm, and Lara almost struck out.

"Lara! You're okay." It was Sam. Lara stopped and tried to breath, tried to nod and let herself be pushed back down into the bed. "Shhh. It was a dream." Sam said, still clinging to Lara's arm. "Just a fever dream." She wiped her hand over Lara's sweat covered brow. Lara tried to nod again, tried to say something, but all her strength was gone. Sapped away by the fire roasting through the marrow in her bones. She felt Sam shift against her and realised that they were both laying the the same bunk, in a bed. When had she gotten to a bed?

Sam had propped herself up and was leaning over her now, adjusting their blankets, which must have been uncomfortable, soaked through with fever sweat, and grabbing something Lara could not see. It was obvious that she had set up for this scenario. Before her eyes could fully adjust to the dark, Lara felt Sam's hand under her head, propping it up with a simple command. "Drink." she held a water bottle to Lara's lips, and Lara did her best to drown the fire within her, or at least replace the copious amount of water she seemed to have lost.

"Thank you, Sam." Lara managed to rasp out as she pushed away the bottle for a breath of air. "I'm sor-"

"Shh." Sam said, and Lara finally heard the immense tiredness in her voice. "Go back to sleep." Sam leaned over her and placed a quick kiss on her sweaty brow, and the settled back down beside her, her head near Lara's shoulder, and stirred no more. Lara only stared up into the blackness a short time before joining her in the land of slumber once more. And this time, Lara did not dream.

* * *

Throughout the night and well into the morning, Lara's consciousness came and went. She was vaguely aware of time passing, of things around her changing. Different people passed in and out of the room. Reyes, Jonah, and the ship's Captain among them. Sam was a near constant, sitting now in a chair pulled beside the bed, with her hand on Lara's forehead almost every time Lara opened her eyes. Her fever had broken in the night, but Sam had seen the extent of her wounds. With the damage done to her body, her fever could always come back.

Lara was mostly aware of the heavy, drowsy heat which seemed to press her down onto the bed. They were still in the Captain's cabin - another generous act on his part, although Lara was still unsure how she'd gotten there - which had a window, but Lara had lost most sense of time. The day was a sweaty, drowsy blur, marked only by the times she had to force herself up and out of bed to use the toilet. The first time standing, Lara almost threw up. Beef soup, it turned out, wasn't the perfect first meal for her weakened constitution. But she managed to hold on. The second time she got up - it may have been evening by now but who could say - she felt a bit stronger. And exhausting as it was, she found the walk helpful. But the water Sam immediately offered her upon her return even moreso.

"Why don't you go outside, Sam? Get some fresh air. Don't have to say cooped here with me." It was the most words Lara had spoken at once since they left Yamatai. Her voice, a horse rasp, and her eyes, red and held open by will alone, did nothing to assure her companion.

"What and miss all the fun?" Sam laughed. Lara raised an eyebrow and gave a look which her roommate immediately recognized as the unspoken question 'are you serious?'. "Look, Lara, I've had enough to boats and the sea ok. I don't need to be out on deck. It's not like there's anything to see but water."

Lara nodded. Then she had a thought. "My belt." She raised her hand and reached out towards the door to the small bathroom where she had last dropped the tools on her belt, as if by lifting her arm she could reach it, or summon it to her hand. "Sam. Get my belt? I've got.." but Sam was already on it.

"Uh, here we go." Sam dragged Lara's muddy, discarded trousers from where they were left the night before under the sink. The belt still looped around them was heavy, and Lara's second belt, with her pistol and axe, Sam slung over her shoulder, in case they were what Lara really wanted. "Man Lara, what did you pick up? Rocks?"

Lara did her best to laugh at the joke, but was making urgent grabby hands at her supplies. Sam dropped the trousers into her lap, and more carefully draped the other belt on the corner of the bed. Almost without thinking, Lara moved the mountaineering axe underneath her pillow, handle out. Sam did not question her as to why. Then the adventurer began rifling through the pouches and supplies still attached to her trousers, making quite the mess. She had rope, shotgun shells, 9mm ammo, and an extra machine gun magazine. A flint stick, some documents, several small artifacts, and ah, here it was. Lara watched sam's face as she pulled out her old handheld camcorder from inside what was meant to be a waterproof ammo pouch.

"Oh my gosh!" Sam gasped, "Lara!"

Lara smiled as she handed it over. "Battery might be dead."

"How did you- Where did… Lara I can't believe it!" Sam was hugging her, as tight as she dared, holding the camera aloft. When she had finished, she looked the device over. It was significantly worse for wear, but intact. She opened the viewing screen and laughed "Two percent. It's still on." in amazement. Lara nodded, but was now falling back asleep.

"Oh my gosh, you got footage? You?! And is this… Woah, Lara this…" Sam trailed off as she pressed play. Lara could barely hear her own voice coming from the machine. Sam stopped it. Her cheer gone. She could tell at once the tone of the footage Lara had used the camcorder for. It was a journal. Words she wanted saved in case she never got to say them herself.

"Go on." Lara told her. "Or maybe… not now. After we're… home." After we're farther away, Lara meant. After there was not even the slightest chance that they could even in her nightmares crash again on Yamatai's shores. After she could bear the see that place again.

"I'll save the battery." Sam said solemnly, so that she didn't have to say the rest. She leaned down and hugged Lara again, this time more gently, but for a long, long time. "Thank you." She said, for far more than just the camera. Lara nodded, and fell back asleep.

* * *

"Lara."

"Nnnnggggggg"

"Lara. Wake up."

"Saaaam."

"Look I promise you can go back to sleep soon. But you gotta wake up."

"Uhhgn. Whaat?" Lara drawled, finally cracking her eyes open. They still felt swollen and hot. The room was dark, the sun gone down, and Samantha was again sitting beside her, a hand on her forehead.

"Jonah said I should check your bandages and re-do them before you go back to sleep." She whispered, as if it would help.

"I was already asleep." Lara moaned, then took a deep breath and sighed. "Jonah's right."

"Sorry." Sam started, but Lara shook her head.

"Let's keep the bed clean, at least." Shifting her stiff muscles, she managed to free her arm from her blankets, and took hold of Sam's hand. Using this anchor as leverage, Lara worked to prop herself up and manually shift the lead weights she called her legs over the edge. Still rather asleep, but determined to sleep walk to the shower, Lara shoved herself up and attempted to balance her suddenly top heavy weight, or at least press it forward and not back. Sam caught her, and led the slowly waking sleepwalker back to the shower again.

This time, Sam dragged the metal chair she'd been sitting in with them, and plopped Lara down in it. Lara binked and tried to adjust her eyes to the light while Sam got the first aid kit.

"Arms." She said in short as she returned and Lara automatically lifted her arms so Sam could remove her shirt. She could hear Sam exhale sharply at the sight of just how many bandaged wrapped her again. "Good thing they had another first aid kit."

"Hmm." Lara hummed in agreement as Sam began removing a stiff bandage around her arm. Being soaked in sweat and then dried did the fabric no favors. "You're gonna get pretty good at this."

"You mean I'm not already good?" Sam teased, and was gratified to see Lara smile. "Put your hand here, Lara, you're gonna fall off." She placed Lara's hand on her shoulder to give her an anchor. "I brought the chair so you wouldn't end up on the ground."

Lara hummed again, this time expressing a laugh. "I thought…" she tried to speak and had to clear her throat. "I thought you were the one I had to get home the bar when she couldn't stand up."

"Laraaa" Same whined but did not stop her ministrations. "That was one time."

Lara raised an eyebrow.

"Ok so it was more than one time. But you only had to actually carry me once."

Lara stared at her.

"Ok! More than once! But I only fell off a chair once."

Lara conceded this point with a nod.

"And I seem to remember you getting a busted lip that night too. I thought your job was to _stop_ bar fights."

"Mmm." Lara nodded. "And I did."

"Touché."

They sat in silence for a while, Lara focused on staying upright, while Sam carefully unbandaged, cleaned, and rebandaged everywhere she had bandaged before.

"You're gonna have to get this one looked at you know." She at last commended on the terrible wound in Lara's side. "Like at a hospital."

Lara nodded, but resentfully. She hated hospitals. She let the silence extend.

"Do you think… I mean… People were looking for us." Sam processed her thought out loud. "Do you think we were, like, on the news? I wonder how… Oh and my parents." The thought hit her like a shot. "Oh God, my _parents_. Lara they'll probably come meet us at the boat as soon as they find out where... Oof, and they'll want me to come home."

"Hmm." Lara processed thought much more quietly. "Maybe you should."

Sam stopped. "What?"

"Maybe you should go home."

"Lara."

"It's safer there." Lara's eyes were far away. Not looking at Sam. Sam positioned herself in front of them, forcing Lara to either look away or look at her. She made eye contact. This time, Sam let the silence linger on.

"You know it's not your fault, right?"

"Sam."

"Lara, listen to me!" Sam stood up, taking the hand Lara was still draping over her shoulder, and holding it in both of her hands. "I'm safer with you."

Lara took a deep breath, and tried to convince herself that that was true. "Sam…" She started, looking away.

"Lara. You can't… you can't send me away. After all that, I…"

"I'm not send you away! You can do whatever you want!" Lara insisted.

"Good. Then I'm staying. And if I'm going home with my parents, then you're coming with me."

Lara took a moment to consider this, and then nodded. It wasn't like she had her own parents to return to. Would anyone back home even worry that she was gone? The staff at the Nine Bells maybe. But Roth was gone.

With this assurance, Sam went back to work. But she couldn't hold her silence for long.

"You know it's not your fault though, right?" Lara did not respond. "You know that I still… I trust you Lara. I know that a lot happened and… God, I'm gonna need so much therapy after that but. I don't want this to change… us."

Lara stared straight ahead and nodded again. But they both knew that Yamatai had already changed them. Changed everything.

"Don't let them win, Lara." Sam was still working, but was watching her, concerned. It had become a common occurrence over the years they lived together, Sam staring at Lara and trying to guess what was going on inside her friend's head. At this comment, Lara's eyes finally met hers, and Sam knew she was onto something right. "You told me that once, you know? After… God, I can't even remember his name now, I think I blocked it out. After that guy dumped me, and it was that big to-do. When you helped me realise how bad he'd been for me anyway, but I just couldn't let go? You told me that I can't let him win. Can't let him hang on to my mind and heart after he'd left. Can't keep believing the lies he told me, or that I told myself. Can't let it take over the rest of my life and steal the joy that wasn't his to take. Lara, you can't let Matthias win."

The name Matthias sat like a physical presence in the room. Lara did not respond.

"I know that we can't just... Forget that this happened. And I'm not asking you to. But just, for me…" Sam didn't know what she wanted to ask. "Let's just try and get back to normal for a bit, alright? Back home, with your books. We'll get some tea, and I'll take some goofy pictures. And it'll all be fine. How about that?"

Mm. Tea. Lara nodded.

"We'll stay up too late watching bad horror movies and you can yell at the heroes for being dumb, and I can yell at the director for the terrible lighting. And we can fall asleep watching late night nature documentaries on the couch." Sam was working hard to get Lara to smile now. She was just about done with the bandages, and was not about to let Lara go back to sleep upset. She briefly stopped to get Lara to shift in her seat and allow Sam to tend to the bandages on her legs. "And then you'll wake up at some god forsaken early hour and go on a run, and I'll stay home and make breakfast, and it'll all be alright." Sam did not stop her storytelling as she lifted Lara back to her feet and guided her back to the bed. "Maybe we'll plan another trip. A safer one. Maybe back to Kenya? Or we could do an American tour. A road trip! We could go route 66! Or go up to Canada. There's load of mountains you haven't climbed there…"

"Ok, Sam." Lara stopped her at last as she gently laid back down. "I'll try."

"Thank you." Sam said, satisfied. She paused for a moment. "Sorry for yelling at you when you're sick."

Lara smiled. "I deserved it. Now, are you going to stand there all night?"

"Oh, I, uh…" Sam shifted her weight a bit. "Sorry about last night, I didn't know if you'd mind, but I didn't think I should leave you and…"

"Come on." Lara shifted over to make room. It was a very small bed, definitely meant for one occupant. But Sam had squeezed in beside her last night when she was thrashing in nightmares, so Lara figured she could manage it again.

"Thanks." Sam said as she crawled into the bed, putting her side right to its outer edge. "I, uh… I meant that earlier. I feel safer with you."

"Mm. You too." Lara hummed as she settled down, putting her arm out to make room for Sam to come closer and not fall off the edge. If she woke up and Sam wasn't there, she didn't know what she'd do. She briefly checked that her axe was still under her pillow while Sam finagled herself under the blankets. In the end, Sam came to rest her head on Lara's shoulder. Lara's hand still rested on the handle of the axe.

"Lara?" Sam whispered, a truly quiet word as she assumed her friend was in fact asleep.

"Hmm?" came the response, however.

"Thanks… for saving me. I never said that." Lara hugged her.

"Thank you, Sam." She did not say for what. She did not have to.

"The Captain said we should reach Tokyo tomorrow."

Sam felt Lara give a little laugh. "We'll deal with your parents when we get to them, Sam."

"Together."

"Yes. Together. Now. I'm going to sleep."

Sam leaned up and kissed Lara's cheek. Lara smiled, and held her closer.

They had not, she knew, faced the extent of the aftermath. There would be more challenges ahead, ones she couldn't even think of right now. The world, Lara knew more than most, was not a kind place. And there was no way that everything could go back to the way it was, not after that. But she would take this short reprieve as she could, glad that Sam was there to take it with her, and would be there for all the rest.


End file.
